by Rhys Everly
When I greeted her, she jumped, dropped a plate, and clutched her heart as if I’d just given her the scare of a lifetime.
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said and walked around the kitchen island to give her a hug.
“It’s okay, darling. I just thought I was on my own,” she said, and her frantic breathing slowed to a more normal rhythm. “Do you want some breakfast? Have you eaten?”
I reassured her I was fine and convinced her I should be the one to clean up the mess on the floor since I was the one that had caused it.
“I thought we could go for lunch with Dad. Spend some time together,” I said as I disposed of the broken plate into the trash.
“That’d be nice, honey. He’s upstairs fixing the sink. Let me go get him,” she said and climbed the stairs.
I had begun to follow her, and she stopped mid-step to look at me.
“Well, I haven’t seen the house yet. Can I get a tour?” I asked, and she bit her lip before forming a smile.
“Of course, honey. How silly of me. Come on up,” she said and rushed up the stairs.
She showed me the two guest rooms that were filled with suitcases, laundry, and all sorts of crap before she took me to their master bedroom which looked down the back of the house and at the stretch of land they had as a garden. Their wedding anniversary would certainly look nice out there.
As we walked down the hallway to the bathroom, I noticed rows of frames on either side featuring me. Some were pictures of Detective Strong, while the majority of them were from the other films I’d done during my career but which no one ever seemed to remember.
“What’s all this?” I asked.
Mom looked at the frames and then back at me and grabbed my hand.
“What? Mamma can’t be proud of her little bear?” she said and stopped me in front of the poster of my first film.
“Look at you here. How young and sweet you were. You were wonderful then, and you’re still wonderful now.”
I stared at it for a long while. It was like a completely different person all together. Still tall, but scrawny and fashioning those early nineties haircuts that made the youth of today— and me— cringe at the sight of them. Too much gel and not enough styling. Even the face of the boy I used to be didn’t look the same. He was full of secrets and pain, and no one ever knew. No one would ever know. I’d done a great deal of erasing to get the shit show of my early career out of my mind, and I wasn’t ever going to let anyone know the truth.
I’d been full of ambition, yes, but that ambition, the passion even, had been squashed by one monster. It was a miracle I was still standing, stronger than ever despite what my first agent put me through.
“Come on, let’s get your dad and go out to town,” Mom said and pulled me to the bathroom where Dad was lying on the floor under the bathroom sink with a myriad of tools I was sure he didn’t need to fix the problem.
“Jeff, come on. We’re going for lunch with your son,” she said.
Dad looked up with a confused look.
“Who? What son?” he said and cracked up at his own Dad joke. “Let me tighten this fucking thing, and I’ll get ready. Where should we go? Andy’s or Linda’s?”
“Linda’s. The food at Andy’s is so bad these days. I don’t think my stomach can take it. As much as I love the guy,” Mom told him, and I hated that I didn’t know what they were talking about. That I wasn’t involved in their little sphere that would have sounded so boring any other time but sounded so interesting to me right now.
“All righty then. Linda’s it is,” Dad said and got back to his feet.
And so it was decided, and no more than half an hour later, we were sitting in a teal diner with teal napkins and teal cushions, and I was certain this place was a tearoom and not a restaurant. Until, of course, we got the huge menus that were half the size of the table we were sitting at.
“Oh, God. So many options. I don’t think I’ve had this many options in the last decade,” I said, and Mom stared right at me.
“What on Earth do you eat back home?” she asked.
“It depends. If we’re filming, protein, protein, and a whole lotta protein. If we’re not, I usually eat a balanced diet of burgers, salads, and milkshakes,” I said.
Would I ever admit that in an interview? That was a resounding no. As members of the studio franchise, we were supposed to promote healthy living. Which was an entire contradiction to my diet prior to and after filming. All the protein and supplements in the world with the least amount of water possible. Gotta make those muscles show, baby.
“Well, that’s not a healthy way to live, now is it?” Mom said.
“Leave him alone, Christine. Dawson is a grown man. He can do what he wants,” Dad snapped at her playfully, but resolutely.
Could I do what I wanted? Most of my life was spent doing what others wanted me to do. Whether that was my agent, my publicist, or the studio, every moment of my life was controlled by someone.
And that was part of the reason why staying with the franchise and doing another dozen movies didn’t appeal to me anymore. I wanted to be free to pick my projects, free to make mistakes and maybe even go behind the cameras on a producer role. Maybe even try directing. I’d picked up more than enough skills from working with all the directors throughout my career.
But I missed doing the indie stuff that was never going to make millions, or billions, at the box office. Doing roles that didn’t involve bulking up and changing my diet to a dangerous level so I could meet someone’s standards on what is considered an attractive level degree of toned.
“What are you doing next, son? What’s on the horizon,” Dad asked.
I shrugged. Wasn’t that the question of the century.
“Not sure yet. The studio wants me to sign on for another eight films, and my agent wants me to do it,” I said.
“What about your personal life? Don’t you want to settle down with a nice girl, have a family?”
Every other time our conversation went to my personal life, it’d been easy to lie and dismiss the question as not something on my mind. But now, there was an urge inside to tell them who I was and how much I wanted to have a family. With a man. Even if said man was elusive as was my coming out, personal or public.
“Maybe,” was all I managed to say to appease both opposing sides in my head.
My mom put her hand on top of mine on the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“You’ll figure it out, baby. You always do,” she said, and before I could answer or ask her for help figuring this shit out, the waitress came over to our table with a teal pen and notebook and took our order.
Thank God.
The rest of the meal went smoother than the beginning. Having edible fuel seemed to give me more confidence to steer the conversation to safe topics until we ended up talking about the town, their life here, and the upcoming party next week.
I returned to the guesthouse not long after five and settled down in the gazebo with my book and just read until the words blurred into each other.
As fun as James Sky’s books were, this one, this time, wasn’t working for me. And it wasn’t because it was lacking. If anything, this was probably his best work to date, and I’d read them all, so I knew.
It was just the conversation with my parents earlier, and all my encounters with Tracy before I left, and bumping into Helen at the hotel. Everything was taking its turn to haunt my mind until Leo came and took prominence.
He was still so damn sexy up close. He’d grown into himself quite a lot. He’d always been handsome. More handsome than I ever was, but age and life had given him that passion in his eyes and that irresistible appeal.
And I still hadn’t apologized for what I’d said this morning. I’d tried to avoid thinking too much about it during the day, but I had no choice but to ponder over it now.
I got up and went back into the house where I found Melody at reception who looked drained and in need
of a rest.
“Long day?” I asked.
As soon as she saw me, she sat up a little bit straighter and plastered a smile on her face.
“And how is our favorite guest doing? Can I get you anything? Just ask and I’ll get it for you. Honestly,” she said, and her eagerness when she was obviously exhausted made my heart ache for her.
“I’m great. And if there’s anything I’d like, I can get it myself, thank you. As my parents have informed me today, I’m a grown man.” I chuckled.
“I didn’t know your parents lived here. Why haven’t I seen you in town before?”
“This is my first time visiting. They moved here about four, five years ago when they retired early,” I said.
Melody gasped and put both hands to her mouth.
“No. Don’t tell me Christine and Jeffrey Eldred are your parents? Duh, Mel. Of course they are. I can’t believe I didn’t know that,” she said.
I laughed.
“Me, too, actually. I didn’t think there was anyone on the East Coast that didn’t know,” I said. “I’d assumed they told everyone they meet.”
Melody laughed as well and rubbed her neck while stretching it.
“What time does your shift finish? Isn’t anyone else coming to take over for the evening?”
She waved away a yawn while shaking her head.
“I’m a one-woman show I’m afraid. I get the help in the mornings because I can’t cook to save my life, to the absolute frustration of my Greek grandma, but the rest, I do myself,” she said.
“Gee. When do you sleep?” I asked.
“When everyone goes to bed,” she said and looked around her.
I spotted a blanket around her legs and some comfy slippers. So, she worked day and night and slept at her reception desk. God, and then I had the nerve to complain about my life.
“Anyway, you came to ask me something?” she said, putting her smile back on.
“Ah, yes. Of course. There’s a guy staying here. The guy I shared a table with today?”
“Yes, Leo. What’s he done now?”
“Do you know him?”
Melody rolled her eyes.
“Unfortunately. He’s my younger brother. One of them, anyway,” she said.
Of course he was. I could actually start to see the family resemblance. That’s why she looked so familiar. It all clicked now.
“Do you need him for something? Did he say something stupid? If he did, let me apologize. He was raised better,” she said.
“No, actually. It was me that said something stupid. And I wanted to apologize,” I said, and Melody’s eyes creased with suspicion.
“He’s in room 5, but he’s not back yet. I can call your room when he gets back,” she said.
“That’s okay.”
This was already weird. I didn’t need to involve Melody any further and upset Leo more, or clue her in on what had happened between us.
“I’ll check later. Thanks, though,” I said and left for the room, picking up a beer from the fridge in reception.
The sun was setting now, and the water was calling to me. I’d have to come down for a swim tomorrow. It’d be such a shame if I didn’t enjoy my vacation while I was here.
I walked down to the beach and found a palm tree to sit with my back against and watch the sunset. How wonderful would it be if there was someone sitting next to me to enjoy it with me?
Since there was no such person on the horizon, I went for the next best thing. I pulled my phone out and snapped a photo of the scene and straight away posted it on Instagram, #nofilter. I double double-checked that the geo-location tagging was off as the hearts started pouring in, and they made me feel instantly less alone.
One moment, I was admiring the sunset and sneaking glances at the heart count on my post, and the next, a tiny typhoon crashed down on me, knocking my beer into the sand and me off the tree.
“Oops, sorry,” someone little said, and I cleared my head enough to notice the flurry of wings, glitter, and feathers that revealed a little girl.
“Are you okay?” I asked her and helped her off me and back to her feet.
“I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry. I was chasing a butterfly,” the girl said.
I looked around but didn’t see proof.
“I’m sorry you lost it,” I said.
The girl giggled and twirled her thumb around one of her locks.
“Don’t be silly. There are thousands of butterflies in town. I’ll find another one,” she said and looked at me closer.
Her hands went straight to her mouth, and her eyes shot open as she started to jump on the spot and let out a muffled screech.
For a moment, I wasn’t sure what had come over her, but then she let her hands drop and called my name.
“It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Detective Strong,” she said.
I smiled and gave her my hand, raising an eyebrow, and letting the superhero inhabit my body for a moment, which only made the girl shriek again.
“Nice to meet you, Llil’ one. And who are you?” I said in the lower tone I used for Strong.
The girl gave me her small hand and shook it.
“I’m Summer Karagiannis,” she said. “Nice to meet you, Detective.”
I didn’t even have a chance to recognize the last name as Leo’s birth name before someone called out her name.
“Over here.” Summer stood up straight and took a step away from me to wave her hands at someone.
Moments later, a figure appeared from behind the palm tree. It was none other than Leo.
“Look who I found. Detective Strong!” Summer said and pointed at me.
I raised my hand and, with some reluctance, waved at Leo.
“Oh, that’s great, sweetie. Come on, now. We need to get you back to your dad,” he said, completely ignoring my wave.
“But—but... he’s Detective Strong,” she said.
“Yes, he is. And we’re late. And your dad is going to get mad at me if we’re any later,” he said and cast a glance that could have cut through glass.
Summer looked from Leo to me and back to Leo and squinted her cute little eyes before turning back to me. And then her eyes shot open just like they had when she recognized me.
“Can we play?” Summer asked.
Of all the things I’d expected her to say, that was the last.
“Erm, I’d love to, Llil’ one, but I’m afraid your uncle needs to take you back, and I wouldn’t want to get your Leo, I mean uncle, your uncle in trouble.”
“Please, Uncle Leo. Can we call Dad and ask him if I can stay a little longer?” Summer said.
Leo looked ready to succumb to the little one’s charms, but then he glanced at me and told her no.
Despite the abrupt response, Summer wasn’t defeated.
“Can we play tomorrow?” she asked me, and Leo answered for me.
“We’ll see.”
“I’d love to,” I said also.
Leo glowered at me.
“Will you bring me here again tomorrow so we can play with Strong?” Summer said.
Leo rubbed the back of his neck and hissed.
“I don’t know, sweetie. We gotta full day, and I’m sure Dawson, erm, Detective Strong, is busy—”
“I’m not busy,” I said.
Another mean look from Leo.
“Great. You can come with us at the butterfly tour,” Summer said, and it seemed she had already decided that’s what we were doing and there was no question about it.
Leo nodded his head gently, accepting his niece’s victory and took her hand.
“Come on. Let’s go home, troublemaker,” he said.
“Good night, Detective,” Summer said.
“Good night, Llil’ butterfly,” I said and used my Strong voice again. “Good night, Uncle Leo.”
Leo rolled his eyes at me and didn’t say anything. Summer ran off to the guesthouse, but Leo kept the same pace.
“Can I talk to you later, when you’re back
?” I asked him.
“We’ve got nothing to say,” Leo said and picked up the pace.
All I wanted was to say I’m sorry.
But like everything, it’d have to wait for another day.
Six
Leo
Last night had ended up... interesting.
I’d expected to bump into Dawson again. That much was unavoidable when staying in the same small town at the same bed & breakfast, but I hadn’t expected an interaction with Summer and him.
He’d been so kind and nice to her, putting on Strong’s voice to entertain her and trying not to contradict me and my attempt at disciplining my niece. It was sweet of him. And God, so fucking sexy.
People always obsessed about the bad boys, the rule breakers, the rebels. I never cared much for them. I always crushed on the gentle souls, the kind men, the beautiful souls that didn’t let anything in their life, good or bad, get them down and never let any negativity infiltrate in their interactions with others.
Was it ironic of me to like something I wasn’t? Fuck no. Part of the reason that I liked good boys was because I wanted to be one but had always found it hard.
Especially when my effort at being good was being squashed by coming face to face with my past.
But then again, he had agreed to playing with Summer today and going to the tour with us. Not that I wanted him there, but he didn’t have to say yes to that. I couldn’t ever imagine him saying yes to all the invitations he received, even if they were from the younger fans.
Then again, who guaranteed he actually meant it? Dawson had made lots of promises in the past and kept none of them. For all I knew, this was another one of those empty promises he had no intention of following through with.
That’s why I couldn’t let Dawson’s behavior from yesterday change or affect me in any way. He was a self-centered pig in disguise, and no amount of good manners would ever change the fact.
As I opened my eyes and looked at the ceiling illuminated by the fresh morning light, I gave myself a list.
Don’t interact with Dawson.
Don’t let him get under your skin.