“There’s a farm up the road, and it’s locally sourced,” she explained, misinterpreting my examination of the petite poultry as interest.
“Very cute.” I gestured with it as I checked the price on the bottom of the fluff ball on sticks,yeesh—very overpriced rubbish. “But not cheap, cheap.”
She gave a polite smile with a glimmer of worry behind her eyes. “Let me know if you have any questions.” She smiled as she backed up.
“Cheep.” The chick in my hand answered as I waved it at her.
She opened her mouth and closed it again, deciding to make a polite sound of “hmm” before backing away slowly and busying herself with another shelf. On the other side of the store. Away from me.
It was a familiar feeling. Despite being one of the most well-known people on the planet, very few peopleknewme, which was terribly isolating.
Maybe it was that my hair was longer than it’d been since the seventh season ofTerraformative,and my beard was more unkempt than Harrison Evans’s usually beard-free style, thanks to the latest movie I was shooting. I didn’t have time to clean up before this surprise visit to George. Between the beast-mode hair, hat, and sunglasses, I must have looked a little less like her usual clientele: the elite on holiday.
After another few minutes of wandering and worrying,not worrying, about George, I slipped out discreetly. The shop owner was distracted, and I didn’t need to give that awkward wave of “thanks for having me, sorry I didn’t buy anything” and risk seeing the judgment in her eyes. Maybe I should have bought that damn little chick to send to Charlie and Kate. Hell, I could probably buy the whole store, but gifts should mean something more than a way to show that you had the means to purchase them.
I left the small shop filled with expensive wooden cheese boards and silver inlaid cutlery and slowly made my way down Main Street. The twists of evergreen around the lampposts and twinkling fairy lights decorating the perfectly manicured tree-lined street hinted that Christmas was just around the corner. The picturesque small town of Sandia thrived with tourists but was still fully in the hidden gem territory. The surrounding mountains protected it, and its famous watermelon wine kept it flourishing.
I wasn’t quite ready to go up the mountain and return to George’s just yet. When it was just George and me, it could be painful. I sometimes struggled to meet his gaze because of my guilt at my absence in these years sinceTerraformativewrapped. And that made me feel lower than a rubbish bin. At least his tiny ward, Collette, was a welcome distraction. I saw so much of myself in her as a child, a constant reminder of the family I’d thought I’d have by now. My stomach twisted uncomfortably, and I shoved the thoughts and the overstimulating distractions around me away by reaching for my earbuds.
I hit play on my watch, and the voice in my earbuds started the next scene. A female voice with the careful optimism of AI, read the action beat of my current manuscript.
Fade in. Exterior. A small cabin set back in a densely wooded area. A soft glow comes from the windows, but the man on the front step hesitates before reaching for the handle.
Ever since I discovered the magic of listening to my screenplays, memorizing my lines came a lot easier than when I tried to read the words on the page that tended to blur and lose my attention. It also blocked out the outside world so I could fully sink in and focus.
Just one of the many reasons I had been identified as a dumb kid, reliant on my looks and knack for acting. Practicing my lines helped distract me as I wandered the small town, known for its slanting slopes and dry, mild climate.
“This is the end for you,” my prerecorded voice said as I spoke quietly along out loud. I tucked my head as a passing retired couple glanced at me.
My mind kept going back to George and the worry that settled deep in the marrow of my bones.
He was the most important person in my life, along with my two best friends. I couldn’t lose …
No. I wouldn’t go down that path.
“It’s too late,” the robot voice said.
“Excuse me!” a woman called out.
That was odd. I didn’t remember that line. This was a high-budget action flick in the newest mystery detective Simon Harris series remake. I didn’t recall a woman in this scene. I frowned and continued to walk.
“You’ve run out of chances,” I said.
“Excuse me!”
That time, I was sure that hadn’t been in my earbuds. I stopped and turned just as a woman was halting her jog up to me.
So much for incognito Harrison Evans. I didn’t mind a selfie with a fan but was surprised to have been discovered. I straightened my shoulders and slipped on my Hollywood smile. I wouldn’t needHanksince I’d already been identified.
The woman in question stopped in front of me, halting with her hands on her knees, and took a few breaths. “You … walk … really fast,” she said through her pants.
I smiled, disarmed by her cheek. I didn’t often receive an accusation from a fan right out of the gate. As she straightened, her features focused into view. Full pink lips on a wide smile slightly parted in exertion. High color in her sharp cheekbones, dark, curious, almost sleepy-looking eyes, and soft brown waves of hair flowed down her shoulders. I imagined a camera cutting sharply to a zoomed-in shot of my pulse rapidly picking up its tempo, my pupils dilating, and my intake of breath. Tiny details to show that my very human body was having a very human response to her.
She was astoundingly beautiful and as familiar as a friend in a dream.
“Hi,” she said with a wave of a hand.
“Hi,” I said in return, still feeling caught off guard and awestruck.
