It's not the first time someone's wanted me for my talent or name recognition. It won't be the last. You think I'd stop being surprised by it.
"Of course not. You can't let people down."Except me.
"I have a job to do here."
"Apparently. And so do I. I've had a long day so if you don't mind, I want to go to bed." I turn to go back inside when I feel his fingers on my arm again. I glance back over my shoulder to look at where he's touching me, then shift my gaze to his face. "Yes?"
My arm feels like it's on fire with the spark of a thousand volts of electricity. Does he feel it too?
He must, because he's staring at his own hand on my arm. Neither of us move. Then finally, he drops his hand without saying a word. Henderson shoves his fists in his jeans pockets and turns toward the stairs.
I walk in the house and shut the door without looking back.
It's a skill I've perfected.
I lift my phone, prepared to call Mandy back, but then I remember the time. I wander around the downstairs, turning off one light and then another until the unfamiliar surroundings are dark. Lighting my path with my cellphone, I carefully walk to the stairs. A soft glow comes from under Maria's door.
I knock gently before opening. "Maria? Do you have a minute?"
She's propped up in bed, reading on her Kindle. She lowers her glasses and smiles. "Everything okay?"
"I got demoted. They switched my part to a smaller one. I think they think I can't do the role, but they still want my name."
"Can you do the role?"
Maria is wise. She knows so much about babies and kids. I've never asked her about my personal life because, well, she's here for Paisley. But I need to talk to someone.
That need is crushing and overwhelming. I take a deep breath and open up. "I think I can. The new role will be a slam dunk. Less dancing."
"Well, that's a relief."
My difficulty in picking up steps is legendary.
"But they're using me for my name."
"Yeah, and? Aren't you using them?"
I put my hands on my hips. "How could I be using them?"
Maria lifts her brow. "Did you audition? Did you have to work to get the part like everyone else did?"
"Well, no. I mean that reporter wrote that article, and I thought it would be nice if I did it."
She folds her arms over her chest. "Why?"
I match her gesture. "I don't know."
"You do know."
The air is thick as she waits for my admission. Finally I say the words that we both know are true. "I want to get back into the spotlight, but I need to do it away from Jonathan Spencer Maxwell. But really, I just want people to clap for me again."
"You're using them for the applause. For the validation."
I only lift my shoulders in response. What else is there to say?
"Maybe don't look at it like they're using you or you're using them. Consider that you each have needs the other can meet."
Her words make sense, but sit uncomfortably in my chest. I don't deal in symbiotic relationships. I'm used to more parasitic ones.
